Page 2 of Outlaw Ridge: Hayes

Hayes had been called much worse, but as former Delta Force special ops, he’d never pulled the enemy’s hair. Hard not to feel anything but contempt and loathing for someone who’d fight like that.

“Are you okay?” Jemma asked, and it took Hayes a moment to realize that the question was meant for him.

“Fine,” he said.

“I’m not fine,” Petey howled. “I wanta file a complaint. I wanta talk to both your bosses.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “That’s a lot of demands and whining for someone who assaulted a granny. Is his grandmother all right?” she tacked onto that.

“Not especially. She’s in the hospital with a broken cheekbone and two cracked ribs,” Hayes explained.

Jemma’s mouth tightened. Her amber eyes narrowed. And she cursed Petey under her breath. That, and the strong urge to beat the crap out of Petey, had been Hayes’s reaction as well.

Jemma gave Petey a look of undiluted disgust, and she was good at it, too. Then she tipped her head toward the police station. “I’m just about to start my shift. Let’s get him inside so I can do the paperwork to process him in.”

Hayes hadn’t exactly been holding his breath, but it had occurred to him that the small sheriff’s office might not have an available cell to hold someone.

“Thanks,” Hayes muttered, and he went to his SUV door to open it.

The moment Hayes unclicked the seatbelt, Petey immediately barreled out toward him. Or rather, the asshole tried to do that anyway. Hayes just stepped back and let the idiot trip on his own bound feet and tumble out of the SUV. Hayes did catch him, right before Petey would have face-planted on the pavement.

Petey didn’t show any appreciation for that.

He tried to slam his elbow into Hayes’ chest, but Hayes was able to dodge that. Jemma wasn’t. She had stepped up to help him, and her right breast caught the impact of Petey’s assault.

Hayes cursed. Jemma did, too, and she made a sharp gasp of pain, but she didn’t back away. She grabbed Petey by the back of his collar, and with Hayes’ muscle behind the idiot, they began to perp walk Petey toward the station.

They stopped though when there was a squeal of brakes out on Main Street.

A black truck screeched to a stop. It was the only vehicle on the road, so at first Hayes thought it was just a lookie-loo who wanted to know what was going on.

But no.

The driver’s side window came down, and thanks to the streetlight, he caught sight of something that he sure as hell didn’t want to see.

The barrel of an assault rifle.

“Get down,” Hayes managed to say, and he shoved Petey to the ground. In the same motion, he took hold of Jemma’s arm, hauling her down at well.

And the bullets came flying.

A spray of gunfire peppered across the parking lot, slamming into the ground and Hayes’ SUV. Keeping hold of both Petey and Jemma, Hayes scrambled back, using his vehicle for cover. It was bullet resistant, but if the shooter got out of that truck, Jemma, Petey, and he would still be easy targets.

Hayes did something to prevent that.

He drew his Glock, one of the three guns he carried, and he scrambled to his feet, moving to the front end of the SUV so he could try to return fire. He cursed though when he realized he didn’t have a clean shot at their attacker. There were shops and buildings on the other side of the truck, and if someone was in one of them, he could hit them with friendly fire.

Jemma went to his side, shoulder to shoulder with him, and she was about to peer out where she might have gotten her head shot off, so Hayes used his elbow to shove her back. Apparently, she didn’t approve of that because she muttered some profanity.

“I’m going to shoot at the tires to hopefully get the gunman to stop firing,” Hayes let her know, and he glanced at the police station. Any deputy inside would have almost certainly heard the shots and would be responding soon, and the shooter might just gun them down the moment they stepped outside.

Hayes rolled out from the SUV, came up and fired at the tires. He hit one, and while the plan worked to get the gunman to stop shooting, it was a little too effective. The driver not only stopped firing, he slammed on the accelerator and sped away.

Normally, that would have pissed Hayes off, and he would have gone after the asshole, but he looked back at Petey, who had somehow managed to get to his feet and was trying to waddle-run away.

“Damn it,” Hayes muttered.

Hayes shifted directions and tackled Petey. While he was restraining this pain in his ass, again, Jemma took out her phone, and he realized she was calling dispatch so an APB could be put out on the truck.

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